


Drabble Challenge 2.0

by moreorles



Category: Station 19 (TV)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Other, also adding the warning for major character death, because lucas, canon compliant with season two, changing the rating to 'teen' for Vic's potty mouth, set after the season finale, soft!Sullivan is my favorite, this is not a light-hearted romp friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-03-08 07:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 7,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18889924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreorles/pseuds/moreorles
Summary: My take on a pregnancy storyline, as told in 100-word increments.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an experimental fic. I really missed writing the 100-word drabbles, so I'm attempting to tell a whole, linear story using that form. Fingers crossed.

She turns off the shower and reaches for her towel, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She’s existed on autopilot lately and admittedly hasn’t been paying much attention to her own self-care, so her reflection gives her pause.

 

Still dripping, she steps over onto her scale and cocks her head at the number. She’s down seventeen pounds since Lucas died.

 

She’s not that surprised once she thinks about it. The first two weeks she threw up everything she ate and subsisted on ginger ale, multi-vitamins, and ibuprofen. What surprises her is the weird little shape of her stomach.

 

* * *

 

Her first thought is of those little emaciated babies they used to show on TV to get people to donate money, with their big rounded tummies. She hasn’t exactly been taking the best care of herself the past eight weeks, but she didn’t think she was malnourished.

 

Her second thought is just ‘ _wait, what?_ ’ She tucks her towel around herself and goes to fish her planner out of her purse. She flips back and back and back, all the way to the week she got sick. Then she counts forward eleven weeks to today and sinks down onto the bed.

 

* * *

 

She hadn’t noticed. She’s been functioning in full-on survival mode since stepping down off that tower and racing to the hospital. It’s been an onslaught since – coping with the reality of Lucas’s death, the deployment to LA, Travis’s arrest, Sullivan’s unexplained leave of absence.

 

It’s been nearly two months of the purest hell she’s ever endured. So no, she didn’t notice missed periods. Not consciously, anyway. Maybe somewhere in the back of her mind she’d chalked it up to grief and exhaustion. She knew the physical toll they could have on a body.

 

She hadn’t noticed. Today she finally notices.

 

* * *

 

She calls her gynecologist’s office. The receptionist is unnecessarily perky as she congratulates her and tells her the next available appointment is in three weeks.

 

Vic confirms the appointment and hangs up, staring down at her phone. Three weeks is too long to wait for the answers she needs right now. She calls Planned Parenthood and makes an appointment for later that morning.

 

Taking a breath, she forces herself up off the bed and into the bathroom to get ready. She stands in front of the mirror again, rests a hand on her stomach, and resolutely doesn’t let herself feel.

 

* * *

 

A nurse leads her back to an exam room and offers her a seat.

 

“What brings you in today, Victoria?”

 

Her smile is kind and her demeanor patient, and Vic tells her everything. About the antibiotics that must’ve interfered with her birth control. About Lucas’s sudden, earth-shattering death. About not taking care of herself and how exhausted she is, mentally and physically. About how she’s too scared to feel anything right now because she doesn’t think she can handle another loss. She tells her everything, tears streaming.

 

The nurse, Julie, squeezes her hand, says, “Let’s get you some answers, Victoria.”

 

* * *

 

“Okay,” Julie says, “the lab will call us in about fifteen minutes with the test results. In the meantime…” She pats the exam table and reaches for the blood pressure cuff.

 

She’s just finishing the physical when the phone rings. Vic takes a steadying breath, exhales slowly.

 

Julie takes the call, then turns back to Vic. “The test is positive. You’re pregnant.”

 

Vic’s chin quivers and Julie offers her hand. “You have options, Victoria.”

 

Vic shakes her head, presses a hand to her abdomen. “I’m having this baby.”

 

Julie nods. “In that case, would you like to hear the heartbeat?”

 

* * *

 

Vic hugs Julie goodbye and leaves the clinic with a bottle of prenatal vitamins, a string of ultrasound pictures of the most amazing little blob she’s ever seen, and the first pulse of joy she’s felt in weeks.

 

She drives straight to SFD headquarters and asks to speak with the HR director.

 

She recognizes the woman from the funeral. Without saying a word, Vic hands over the letter from the clinic disclosing the pregnancy and advising that appropriate accommodations be made for her.

 

The woman looks up, tears in her eyes, and says, “Chief Ripley would’ve been a fantastic father.”

 

* * *

 

She’s almost to the front door when she hears her name. She turns, finding Frankel rushing toward her.

 

“That didn’t take long,” Vic says drily.

 

“Firefighter health and safety comes first, Hughes. Besides, these are special circumstances. Can we speak privately?”

 

Vic nods and follows her into an empty meeting room. She watches Frankel’s eyes drift down to her stomach.

 

“This is going to sound crass, Victoria, and I don’t mean it that way at all, but get a paternity test. Lucas’s baby is entitled to his departmental benefits. Lucas worked hard. He’d want his child to be provided for.”

 

* * *

 

“This isn’t about money,” Vic says defensively.

 

Frankel puts up a hand, stopping her. “Of course it isn’t. And I didn’t mean to suggest it was. It’s about a connection to Lucas. A legacy. Lucas deserves that, and so do you, Victoria. I knew he was with someone. I obviously didn’t know who, but I knew it was someone special. I’d never seen him like that, and I’ve known him a long time. I know this isn’t any real comfort, but you should know that he was happier the last several months than I’d ever seen him. Because of you.”

 

* * *

 

“How long until everyone else knows?” Vic asks.

 

“Sullivan’s been notified. He’ll speak with you before he informs your lieutenants. I expect he’ll give you the opportunity to speak with your team directly on your terms. That’s protocol.”

 

Vic nods.

 

“Listen, I know light-duty isn’t what you signed up for, but when you need to start desk-duty, you call me. I’ll make sure there’s room on my staff.”

 

Frankel laughs at the expression on Vic’s face. “I know my reputation. I’m only a hard-ass when I need to be. I loved him too, Victoria. I’ll support you however I can.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic has an important errand to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That errand Vic runs? It's to the cemetery. I'm sorry in advance.

She knows Sullivan is off today, so she texts him, asks him to check his email and tells him she’ll be in early tomorrow to talk before shift.

 

She gets a quick response – ‘Whatever you need, just ask. I’ll help however I can. See you in the morning.’

 

That done, she calls and schedules a haircut. It’s been a while and she figures it’s a pretty decent first step toward taking care of herself again.

 

Her stomach growls loudly and she laughs, rubbing at her belly. “Okay, food first,” she says, “Then we have an important errand to run, Kiddo.”

 

* * *

 

She pulls out of the drive-thru and starts onto the newly familiar route.

 

Ten minutes later, she pulls through the cemetery gates and makes her way to him, nestled into the back corner with a lovely view of the willow trees that dot the perimeter.

 

She sits in her car and finishes her sandwich, watching the willows dance in the breeze. As awful as she finds this place, she acknowledges the beauty and peacefulness, the tranquility of this quiet space. Knows he’d approve. Knows he’d be pleased that the empty plots on either side of him are reserved and waiting.

 

* * *

 

The only input she’d given Jennifer regarding Lucas’s arrangements was about his grave. “I need someplace to sit,” Vic told her.

 

She’d shown Vic three headstone options with built-in benches. Vic had chosen a sleek design in smoky grey granite, earning a nod of approval from Jennifer. “That one was my first choice too.”

 

It had finally been installed two weeks ago. Seeing it there, all shiny stone, his name and title engraved, with his birth and death dates below, had knocked the wind out of her. She’d sunk to her knees, traced his name with her fingers, and cried.

 

* * *

 

“Hiya, hot stuff,” she says, kissing her fingertips and touching the top of the headstone. She settles cross-legged onto the bench. “Boy, do I have a story for you.”

 

She shakes her head in wonder and bites her lip, unnecessarily nervous to say it out loud. “So, remember when I got sick a while back?” she asks, chewing on her thumbnail. “Of course you remember, you big sap. It was when you told me you loved me for the first time. Anyway, that antibiotic? Kinda messed with things and, well, we’re going to be parents. Of an actual human being.”

 

* * *

 

She rubs her belly, says, “You just bulldozed down all my boundaries, you know that? I didn’t want to fall in love. Didn’t want marriage. Definitely didn’t want kids. Then you just had to smile at me, you jackass.”

 

She laughs, imagines how beautiful his eyes would be from the smile he’d surely give her.

 

“If you have any say in these things, can you please make sure this kid gets your eyes? And maybe your temperament too, okay? Do me a solid on that one.”

 

She sighs, swipes away a tear. “A baby, Lucas. Can you fucking believe this?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aunt Jennifer

She texts Jennifer when she gets home, asks her to call when she has a minute. They’ve kept in touch, and Vic is proud of them for that. She’d honestly expected them to never speak again - that they’d see one another as a too painful reminder of all they’d lost.

 

But the day she flew home, Jennifer had met Vic for breakfast, hugged her tight, and whispered, “I need you to be my sister now, okay? Be my family, Vic. Let me be yours.”

 

Vic had nodded tearfully, then laughed and asked if that meant she could borrow her clothes.

 

* * *

 

Jennifer calls an hour later.

 

“Hey you,” Vic answers, “On your way home?”

 

“Yeah. How are things? You okay?”

 

“It’s actually been a good day,” Vic says, then makes small talk for the twenty minutes she knows it takes her to get home. When she hears Jennifer punch in her alarm code, Vic clears her throat and says, “So, quick question? What are you doing for New Years?”

 

“No idea. Why?”

 

“Wanna come hang out with me? Maybe become an aunt?”

 

“What?” she asks, breathlessly.

 

“I’m pregnant. I just realized today.”

 

“Vic!”

 

“I know.”

 

“I get to be an aunt?”

 

* * *

 

Jennifer squeals directly into the phone and Vic throws her head back and laughs, relief flooding through her.

 

She’s confident Lucas would’ve been happy about the baby, and she knows her team at Nineteen will support her through this, but she was genuinely nervous about telling Jennifer.

 

“Details, Vic,” Jennifer says, sniffling, “Tell me everything.”

 

And Vic does. They talk and laugh and cry. They make plans for Jennifer to visit the next weekend Vic has free. Vic texts her the ultrasound pictures and promises to FaceTime her for the next sonogram.

 

It’s the most hopeful Vic’s felt in months.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travis invites himself over for distract-Vic-with-trashy-TV-and-high-caloric-food night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay friends, I'm going full needy-pants here - I have a job interview this afternoon that I am supes nervous about, so I could use all the good juju or positive energy or supportive vibes you've got. Kthx.

Travis texts soon after she hangs up with Jennifer.

 

‘Pizza. Beer. The Bachelor. See you at 7.’

 

She replies, ‘bring ice cream!’ and adds the kissy-face emoji.

 

“I got the good beer,” he says when she opens her door. He kisses her cheek, then helps himself to her kitchen.

 

“None for me, thanks,” she says.

 

“But you love this kind.”

 

She shrugs, bites her lip, waits. He narrows his eyes and cocks his head, then gasps.

 

“No fucking way!”

 

“Yes fucking way.”

 

“You’re not.”

 

“I am.”

 

“What? _How_?”

 

“Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much…”

 

* * *

 

 He cuts her off by swooping her into a hug and spinning her around.

 

“Oh god, sorry. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

 

“I’m pregnant, you idiot, not made of candy glass. If this kid can survive the last two months it can survive a hug.”

 

“Jesus, Vic,” he says, shaking his head, “How did you… I mean, when… Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, this morning. Look.” She pulls her shirt up to show him the teeny little bump of her belly.

 

“ _Vic_. Can I?” he asks, reaching out.

 

She takes his wrist and presses his hand to her belly.

 

* * *

 

“Wow,” he breathes, “There’s a baby in there.”

 

“A fetus, technically. The size of a chicken nugget.”

 

“Hi, nugget,” he says, crouching down eye-level with her bellybutton, “I’m your Uncle Travis.”

 

He looks back up at Vic, tears in his eyes. “This is way better than The Bachelor.”

 

She huffs a teary laugh and nods, “Your very own live-action reality show.”

 

He stands up and pulls her into another hug, holding her close.

 

“Man, this kid is going to have the best head of hair.”

 

Vic snorts a laugh and smacks his arm. “Way to ruin the moment, Uncle Travis.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic talks to Sullivan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter is written as a flashback. Hopefully that's clear in the writing, but just in case...
> 
> Also, interview update: Thanks for all the well wishes and good vibes! I feel like I nailed my part of it, but yikes. One of the owners was a real tool bag and even made a random joke about how climate change isn't real. What?! They'll have to offer me a buttload of money to work for that guy.

Sullivan is just getting out of his truck when she pulls into the parking lot.

 

“Morning,” he says, holding out a coffee cup to her.

 

“Oh, um, I’m not really supposed to…”

 

“It’s decaf.”

 

She accepts it with a nod and follows him into the station. They settle in his office, the door closed, and he raises an eyebrow – his signal for her to spill.

 

“So, yeah,” she says, shrugging. “Pregnant.”

 

He leans in toward her. “You feeling okay? Sure you’re up to working?”

 

“Yeah. I actually feel kinda great, considering. I don’t mind aid car duty for a while.”

 

* * *

 

He spent a month on leave, rehabbing his leg and actually taking it easy like he was supposed to do the first time. A week into his leave – two weeks after Lucas died – Vic knocked on his front door.

 

“Will you talk to me? About Lucas?” she’d asked imploringly.

 

He’d invited her in, started talking, and hadn’t stopped for over two hours, until they were both red-eyed and wrung out.

 

It was out of character for both of them, typically so guarded and private. She’d needed it, though, this connection to Lucas, and was grateful that Sullivan had recognized that.

 

* * *

 

He’d invited her back, offering dinner. “I grill a mean steak. Luke said so himself.”

 

So she spends her next afternoon off at his house.

 

“I dug these out after you left last week. Got some copies made. Thought you might like them,” he says, handing her an envelope with pictures of Lucas from years ago, when they worked together.

 

She traces a finger over his smiling face and marvels at how young he looks.

 

“I, uh, made a few calls, too. To the old crew. To see if they had anything else. We’ll see what they come up with.”

 

* * *

 

She holds up a picture with Lucas and Sullivan singing into microphones, mouths wide open and eyes squeezed shut, clearly mid-belt, asks, “What’s the story with this one?”

 

“Mahoney’s bachelor party. We got so damn drunk.” He launches into the story and has Vic weeping with laughter.

 

When she puts the pictures back, she finds a business card for a therapist.

 

“It’s not my business, but she’s really great. I saw her after Claire died, before I moved. Been seeing her again since the wreck.” He shrugs. “She’s our kind of people – you’ll like her. I mean, if you want.”

 

* * *

 

“You…? Really? Isn’t it weird?”

 

“At first, yeah. I hated it. Then I thought about it. Figured I had a trainer at the gym, you know, because I wanted professional help keeping my body strong and healthy. So I thought of her as a trainer for my mind. Things were bad after Claire died. I felt like I was drowning. She helped me kick my way to the surface.”  

 

She nods, bites at the inside of her cheek, considering. “I’m not very good at asking for help.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he says, huffing a laugh. “Just… please think about it.”

 

* * *

 

“So, any thoughts about telling the team?”

 

“I want to today. During breakfast, if that’s okay with you. I can’t do secrets, and besides, Travis already knows.”

 

“Want me there with you?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

She stalls in Sullivan’s office until she’s sure everyone will be upstairs for breakfast. Sullivan follows her up the stairs and watches her take a deep breath before reaching for the doorknob.

 

Everyone is seated and already eating when she steps to the head of the table.

 

“Hughes? You okay?” Ben asks.

 

“What’s going on?” Andy asks, eyes darting to Sullivan.

 

She shrugs. “I’m… kinda pregnant.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinda pregnant?
> 
> (Also, Uncle Travis might be just a touch over-enthusiastic.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone not familiar with American colloquialisms, 'ralph' is another word for vomit.

“Kinda?” Jack asks, as Dean lets out an actual ‘whoop’, points at her and says, “Light!” He hugs her, lifting her clear off her feet.

 

“Easy, man,” Sullivan says, chuckling, and watches as Dean sets her back down and passes her off to Gibson.

 

“That explains the ralphing,” Jack says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Does this mean we can make bacon again?”

 

Vic makes a face, squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head.

 

“Maybe we give it another week,” Maya suggests, nudging Jack out of the way so she and Andy can sandwich Vic in a hug.

 

* * *

 

“Show ‘em the pictures, Vic,” Travis says.

 

She pulls out her phone and swipes over to the ultrasound pictures she saved when she texted Jennifer.  

 

“See that little blob right there?” Travis enthuses, pointing, beating her to the punch, “That’s the baby. It’s already the size of a chicken nugget.”

 

“How do you feel? I mean, are you okay to work?” Jack asks.

 

“Yeah,” she shrugs, hands Travis her phone, “I mean, I feel okay. No worse than I have the last two months. At least now I can blame feeling like garbage on something other than my dead fiancé.”

 

* * *

 

She’d finally taken full ownership of the title after a conversation with Sullivan. He’d shaken his head, just this side of angry, when she’d referred to herself again as arm candy.

 

_‘Damnit, Vic, you and I both know that’s not what you were to him. He loved you. He wanted to marry you, build a life with you. Don’t diminish that. Don’t make him sound sleazy.’_

 

That had shifted her perspective immediately and made her stand taller in the truth of their relationship. He was her fiancé, her Lucas.

 

Sullivan even noticed that she’d started wearing his watch during shift.

 

* * *

 

 “What’s the plan, Sir?” Bishop asks. “I assume Hughes won’t be fighting fires for a while.”

 

“Right, so,” he turns, addresses the team, “Hughes is gonna be on aid car for now. We’ll adjust as we need to. I trust you all can be flexible with things.”

 

He gets a chorus of yeses.

 

“Can I ride with her today?”

 

“I won’t overdo it, Montgomery, I promise. I don’t need a babysitter.”

 

“But…” he deflates and pouts at her a little.

 

“I already scheduled Montgomery on aid car,” Sullivan says. Vic rolls her eyes as Travis fist pumps and hisses ‘ _yes!_ ’


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desk duty

After breakfast, Sullivan sends everyone off to start chores.

 

“Hughes, you’re on the desk.”

 

“I can help with chores. I’m not an invalid.”

 

“Desk,” Sullivan says, pointing at the door.

 

She trudges away, settles at the desk, and texts Jennifer. ‘I’ve been relegated to desk duty.’

 

‘Good. Take it easy.’

 

‘Whose side are you on?’

 

‘As of yesterday? My little peanut’s.’

 

‘You’re a terrible sister, Jen.’

 

‘The absolute worst, I know.’

 

‘I’m in for six months of everyone fussing over me, aren’t I? Ugh, gross.’

 

‘Afraid so. Get used to it, Sis. Now stop pouting and get back to work.’

 

* * *

 

The phones are quiet, so she busies herself researching municipal grants. Lucas used to talk about it a lot – how important it was to supplement the operating budget with grant money. She figures Frankel’s probably on it now, as acting interim chief, but she does it anyway, content to have somewhere to focus her attention.

 

Nearly an hour later, Travis comes in to wipe down the display case, then saunters over, leans on the counter in front of her.

 

“Feeling okay?”

 

“I’m feeling annoyed.”

 

“But, I mean, how’s Nugget?”

 

She rolls her eyes. “Bored. Nugget needs a big juicy call.”

 

* * *

 

Travis opens his mouth to respond, to remind her that a big juicy call means someone is hurt and needs medical help, but Vic’s stomach growls. Loudly.

 

She grimaces, “I guess in all the excitement I forgot to actually eat breakfast.”

 

“I’ll go get you something. What do you want? Pickles? Ice cream? Pickles with ice cream?”

 

“Peanut butter sounds amazing.”

 

“With crackers or an apple?”

 

“With a spoon. Just… bring me the whole jar?”

 

“You want an entire jar of peanut butter?”

 

“I want the option of an entire jar. Do not judge me or my peanut buttery needs.”

 

* * *

 

Travis is halfway down the stairs with her peanut butter when the alarm sounds, calling them to the scene of an MVA.

 

“This is not my fault,” she says defensively, taking the jar and spoon, and following Travis to the rig. She clicks her seatbelt on then unscrews the lid as Travis flips on the lights and sirens.

 

“You’re eating that now?” he asks, glancing over at her as she licks the spoon.

 

“What? Blood sugar! You want a partner or another patient to treat?”

 

“Okay, fair enough. You’re gonna let me do the heavy lifting, right?”

 

“Not a chance.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the big juicy call (or, Vic and Travis have bff time in the aid car)

The MVA turns out to be little more than a fender-bender, and they have both drivers assessed and released within thirty minutes.

 

“Oh hey, I meant to ask last night,” Vic starts as she pulls out and heads back to the station, “How were your service hours yesterday?”

 

Travis’s attorney managed to plead his charges down, saving both Travis’s record and his career. In return, Travis agreed to five hundred hours of community service. It had been Pruitt’s idea that he spend those hours teaching fire safety at Seattle elementary schools.

 

“Pretty great, actually. Kindergarteners are kind of the cutest.”

 

* * *

 

“Honestly,” he continues, “it’s even better than I expected. The superintendent asked me about putting together a basic first aid class for the middle schools, and he’s thinking about adding CPR certification classes for high schoolers.”  

 

“Yeah?”

 

Travis nods. “I started working on the outlines yesterday afternoon.”

 

“You were so freaked out about your hours,” Vic says, glancing over at him. “I’m really glad things are working out.”

 

“I didn’t know what to expect, especially when Pruitt brought up the school thing. But the kids are always excited to see me and I get a million hugs when I leave.”

 

* * *

 

Vic shakes her head. “I cannot believe I’m best friends with such a mushball,” she teases.

 

“You love me.”

 

“Mmhm, if you say so.”

 

“I say so,” he says. “Hey Vic? I’m gonna love the shit out of your kid, you know that right?”

 

“Mm,” she nods, glancing over at him. “I’m counting on it, Uncle Smushypants.”

 

He smiles at her, then rubs his hands together and says, “Oh man, I cannot wait to snuggle a baby. They always smell so good.”

 

“Yeah, until they don’t,” she makes a face.

 

“You won’t care when it’s yours.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

* * *

 

“I’ll take care of the rig,” Vic says, backing into the barn.

 

“I’ll do it,” Travis counters, “you really shouldn’t…”

 

“We used like five band-aids,” she says, cutting him off. “It’ll take me two minutes to clean up and restock.”

 

He opens his mouth to protest, but she gives him a look, stopping him cold. “You’ve been pregnant for five minutes. How do you already have a mom stare?”

 

She grins at him. “It’s a gift. Now go help Gibson and Miller fix lunch – I’m starving. Go on, mister. March.”

 

“You’re a little bit terrifying sometimes, you know that, right?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Grief is so damn weird."

She’s just settled back at the desk when Andy comes and sits beside her.

 

“Do they even make maternity SFD uniforms?” she asks, apropos of nothing.

 

“Oh god, I haven’t even considered maternity clothes,” Vic says, looking slightly horrified. She grabs her phone and types ‘maternity first responder uniforms’ into the search.

 

“Those aren’t terrible,” Andy says, pointing to a pair of cargo pants.

 

“I can live with those. And maybe just some bigger t-shirts? I have all of Lucas’s.”

 

“Is it terrible that this was my first concern?” Andy asks, laughing a little.

 

“I hadn’t even thought about it.”

 

* * *

 

“Maya and I will take you shopping. You’ve probably still got a while before you need maternity clothes. You’re not showing yet.”

 

Vic looks around, then stands up and untucks her shirt to show Andy her belly.

 

“It’s not much,” she says, rubbing a hand across it, “but it’s there. Probably doesn’t help that I’ve lost almost twenty pounds since Lucas died.”

 

“Twenty pounds?” Sullivan asks, approaching from down the hall.

 

Vic quickly tucks her shirt back in and turns to him. “Well, seventeen. I haven’t really had much of an appetite. The pamphlet says that’s pretty normal with grief.”

 

* * *

 

“That’s why I started making smoothies,” he says, “Was the only way I could get protein. Hughes, how do you feel about kale?”

 

“Drown it in Cesar dressing and I’m okay with it.”

 

He sets his clipboard down and takes the stairs two at a time up to the kitchen.

 

“Oh damn,” Vic says, dropping her head onto the desk.

 

“They’re actually pretty good,” Andy says, laughing. “He’s just kind of intense about them. I didn’t know they were a Claire thing.”

 

“Grief is so damn weird. Sullivan and his smoothies. I suddenly care about municipal grants.”

 

“And I organize.”

 

* * *

 

“Your mom?”

 

“Yeah. She was crazy organized. When she got sick, I started helping and taking care of things she was too tired to notice. Started keeping my room really neat, picked up after my dad, did whatever I could to keep everything like she always had.”

 

“Because you couldn’t fix her but you could fix the mess.”

 

“Yeah. I couldn’t control much, but I could make sure the house was tidy and everything was in its place. It’s still what I do when I’m stressed or when I feel out of control.”

 

“Grief is so. Damn. Weird,” Vic says.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys are maybe a little too supportive...

She leaves Andy to cover the desk so she can run upstairs to wash the smoothie cup and check on lunch.

 

The guys are making fajitas, one of her favorites, which she’s both suspicious of and grateful for in equal measure. She decides she can tolerate the fussing if it also includes her favorite meals.

 

Travis had texted her a few minutes ago – ‘How does Nugget feel about guacamole?’

 

‘Extra chunky, NO CILANTRO,’ she’d responded, and yeah, food-related coddling was just fine with her.

 

She finds Travis and Ben at the stove, Jack sitting on the counter, book in hand.  

 

* * *

 

“Hughes,” Jack says, glancing up from his book, “did you know that _‘by the end of this week, your baby's external genitalia will start developing into a penis or a…’_ ”

 

“Do not finish that sentence,” she interrupts, making a face and waving a hand to stop him. “Are you three seriously discussing my kid’s junk?”

 

“There’s some pretty amazing development during the eleventh week of pregnancy, including the genitals,” Ben says earnestly.

 

“Of course gender is a social construct,” Travis says, “and we’ll all support Nugget however they choose to identify.”

 

“Absolutely,” Ben says, while Jack nods, says, “Hell yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“Okay, new rule,” Vic says, looking between them, hands on her hips, “No more discussing my child’s _external genitalia_ , um, ever again. Got it?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Travis grumbles.

 

Ben shrugs, “Sorry, Hughes.”

 

“But this is really interesting,” Jack says, waving the book a little.

 

“Where’d you even get that?”

 

“Across the street at the library. Sullivan said I could go.”

 

“I told him to just download an app like a normal person,” Travis says, holding up his phone with a pregnancy app open.

 

“You downloaded an app,” she deadpans.

 

“Well, two. They both had great reviews and I couldn’t decide.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack is reading 'What to Expect When You're Expecting'. 
> 
> Writing this one made me laugh. I hope it made you all laugh too. Happy Friday!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of shift, plus a post-shift breakfast date

Vic is halfway down the stairs after lunch when the alarm sounds, calling the team to a house fire.

 

She and Travis transport the homeowner to the hospital with minor burns and smoke inhalation, then head back to the scene on standby.

 

Miller is bent double when they arrive, helmet off, hands braced on his knees.

 

Vic jogs over, hands him a cold water bottle. “Here. Hydrate.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Drink.”

 

“Montgomery was right about that mom stare. Damn.”

 

“Thank you. Now drink. Or at least dump it over your head.”

 

He takes a long pull, pouring the rest over himself.

 

* * *

 

“Better?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says.

 

Vic rolls her eyes, but pats his shoulder. “Good. Need O2?”

 

“Nah. Just another minute.”

 

Gibson is giving Sullivan a status update, so Vic goes over to listen. The fire is contained and they should be ready for cleanup within the hour.

 

Sullivan sends Vic to help Travis set up the cooling station, then dismisses them back to the station.

 

The rest of shift is quiet, save for a false alarm the engine crew goes to reset. Vic spends most of the evening curled up in the lounge with Travis’s phone, toggling between pregnancy apps.

 

* * *

 

The girls offer to buy her breakfast after shift, but she declines, tells them she’s not really feeling up to it and asks for a rain check. Instead, she calls the diner, orders two plain biscuits and a chocolate milk to go.

 

It’s become her new post-shift tradition – a diner breakfast with Lucas. Though she’s traded her usual egg dish for biscuits – bland and simple enough not to upset her newly-sensitive stomach – and their usual shared booth for a seat at his graveside. A marked downgrade from the breakfasts they used to share together, but she savors the time anyway.

 

* * *

 

Cam meets her at the door with her order. “Two honeys and extra-cold milk – just like you like.”

 

“You have to let me pay eventually, man,” she says, taking the bag.  

 

“It’s like a three dollar order,” he shrugs, “Besides, biscuits and chocolate milk are the least I can do. Consider it the first responder special.”

 

She arches an eyebrow at him.

 

“Okay, fine. I’ll make you a deal – as soon as you feel up to your eggy thing again, you can pay. Until then, breakfast is on me.”

 

“That’s a very bad deal for you, but I’ll take it.”

 

* * *

 

She settles in cross-legged, giving her chocolate milk a shake.

 

“Cam says hi,” she mentions casually, then shakes her head. “He doesn’t, actually. That would be weird. He did buy my breakfast again, though. I’m gonna need to leave him crazy tips once I start actually eating there again. That’ll even things out, right?”

 

She takes a sip of milk, then splits a biscuit in half, taking a huge bite before drizzling honey over the rest.

 

“I told everyone about the kiddo,” she says, cheek full of biscuit. “Jen’s pretty pumped. She about shattered my eardrum screaming into the phone.”

 

* * *

 

She grins, remembering Jennifer’s excitement. “Man, she’s gonna be such a great aunt. This kid is so damn lucky.”

 

She takes another bite of biscuit, licking honey off her thumb. “I mean, it doesn’t exactly make up for having a dead dad, so ‘lucky’ is relative, I guess. But our kid is going to have one hell of a collection of aunts and uncles who love them.”

 

She brushes crumbs off her hands, pausing mid-swipe. “Oh god, Frankel’s gonna end up being Auntie Deb, isn’t she?” She makes a face and shudders. “You had truly questionable taste in friends, buddy.”

 

* * *

 

“I know, I know – I’ll give her a chance. She was actually pretty great the other day. Told me I could do my desk-duty time in her office.” Vic shrugs, has another drink of milk.

 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Was nice of her to offer, I guess. Oh – she also said I should get a paternity test. You know, so the baby can get your benefits and stuff. Is that weird? It felt kinda gross when she said it, but I thought about it a lot last night and I think she might be right.”

 

* * *

 

She finishes the second biscuit, brushes the crumbs from her hands, and sighs.

 

“I miss you,” she says. “I miss how patient you always were when I started rambling. I miss that look you’d give me sometimes, like you thought I was kind of a lunatic but you loved me anyway. I miss how you’d just reach over and hold my hand, because you knew I was upset and it would make me feel better. I miss how you’d kiss me, sometimes, just to shut me up.”

 

She sighs again and leans her shoulder into his headstone. “I miss you.”  


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therapy-palooza

The alarm on her watch beeps.

 

She’d been smart about scheduling. Knew how much easier it was to say goodbye and make herself leave when she had somewhere to be.

 

She kisses her fingertips and presses them to his headstone.

 

“I gotta go,” she says, standing and gathering her breakfast trash. “Therapy-palooza awaits.”

 

Sullivan had been right about the therapist – Vic had connected with her immediately and had surprised herself with how open she was willing to be.

 

“I’d promise not to talk about you, but that would be a big ole lie. I’ll see you tomorrow, you gorgeous man.”

 

* * *

 

Her first appointment, she’d introduced herself, shaken the therapist’s hand, then sat down, arms crossed. “If you tell me I need anti-depressants or anti-anxiety meds or sleeping pills, I’m out of here.”

 

Dr. McNamara had arched an eyebrow and crossed her legs. “Are you depressed?” she’d asked.

 

“My _fiancé_ just died.”

 

“Are you anxious?”

 

“My fiancé _just_ died.”

 

“Are you sleeping?”

 

Vic rolled her eyes. “My fiancé just died.”

 

“Were you depressed or anxious or having trouble sleeping before he died?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then you likely don’t need meds. Not that there’s a single thing wrong with needing meds, mind you.”

 

* * *

 

“No, there absolutely isn’t. I know that, and I’m not suggesting there is. But isn’t it kind of normal to feel depressed and anxious and sleep-deprived after you lose someone?”

 

“Not just kind of – it’s completely normal.”

 

“Okay, then. I’m not getting a root canal – I don’t need to be medicated and numbed to the pain. I’m grieving. I feel like I need to feel what I need to feel. Right?”

 

Dr. McNamara had nodded at her. “Right. And how are you feeling, Victoria?”

 

“Depressed and anxious and sleep-deprived,” Vic had mumbled. “And angry and jealous and really fucking sad.”

 

* * *

 

Dr. McNamara had leaned forward, given a slight nod, and Vic had taken it for the invitation it was to keep talking.

 

She’d spent that first session talking nearly non-stop – about the evolution of their relationship, about the secrecy, about the spice. About her own hesitation to acknowledge how much she loved him. About being scared of making a real commitment.

 

About how gentle he was with her and how beautiful his smile was and how she could render him speechless with a good kiss.

 

She talked and laughed and cried, then pulled out her planner and set another appointment.

 

* * *

 

She was surprised to actually look forward to sessions with Dr. McNamara. After that first week, when she left feeling wrung-out and raw, she’d sat in the parking lot and cried, then remembered Sullivan’s trainer analogy. She’d taken a breath, refocused, and decided she’d just gotten one hell of a workout.

 

For one hour a week, she was unguarded – open and transparent and brutally honest, pushing herself to stare her grief straight in the eye. And while she still left feeling raw and wrung-out, she also left feeling just a little bit bad-ass and brave and damn proud of herself.

 

* * *

 

This week, when she takes her seat in Dr. McNamara’s office, she’s biting her lip to stifle a grin.

 

Dr. McNamara slides her reading glasses off and gives her a look. Vic snorts an undignified laugh, then dissolves into giggles. It’s the kind of uncontrollable laughter that, when she was little, would make her grandma say ‘ _your giggle box has turned over!_ '.

 

Dr. McNamara smiles, then shakes her head fondly and says, “This ought to be good… Victoria?”

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Vic says, taking a breath. “It’s just… this isn’t what I expected to talk about this week, but…”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s just… this isn’t what I expected to talk about this week, but…”

She takes another deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Okay, so remember how two weeks ago I spent an entire hour losing my shit about not having a lasting connection with Lucas? How all I had to show for our relationship were my memories, a phone full of pictures, and a stack of t-shirts?”

 

Dr. McNamara nods, “I remember.”

 

“I don’t really have to worry about that any more,” she says, fiddling with her phone.

 

“No? Why is that?” Dr. McNamara asks.

 

“Because of them,” Vic says, leaning over so Dr. McNamara can see the sonogram picture. “Doc, meet Nugget.”

 

* * *

 

“Nugget?” Dr. McNamara asks.

 

“Nickname courtesy of Travis. Fetus courtesy of antibiotics and one very hot fire chief.”

 

“Oh, Victoria,” Dr. McNamara says, then cocks her head. “Antibiotics?”

 

Vic nods, rolls her eyes, and launches into the story. Tells her about Sullivan sending her home sick and about the accident that led to delivering a baby in the midst of a storm. Tells her about Lucas taking her home, then later taking her to Urgent Care.

 

She talks about feeling run-down and blaming it squarely on her grief, until two days ago when she noticed something else may be up.

 

* * *

 

“So you’ve had about forty-eight hours to process this… How are you feeling right now?”

 

“Overwhelmed. Kind of excited. Mildly terrified.” Vic huffs a laugh and Dr. McNamara does too.

 

“That sounds about right,” she says, smiling.

 

“It’s… a lot. And I’m already juggling a lot. I definitely haven’t wrapped my head around it yet.”

 

“That’s understandable.”

 

“But I told everyone, and they’re being super supportive so far. Like, kind of crazy supportive.”

 

“Your team at work?”

 

“Mm,” she nods, “My family at work. God, I love those idiots.”

 

“It sounds like that feeling is mutual,” Dr. McNamara says, smiling.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Errands and Miriam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Miriam as a first-gen immigrant in her early sixties.

She leaves Dr. McNamara’s office feeling energized in a way she hasn’t in ages. She decides to use that momentum to tackle a few errands she’s been avoiding.

 

She starts with the thrift store, since it’s closest, and drops off the boxes she’s been carting around since her spring-cleaning spree months ago.

 

Next, she stops at the post office and finally mails the thank you cards she wrote, courtesy of insomnia, to everyone who sent flowers to Lucas’s funeral. It doesn’t exactly make sense that sending them feels more emotionally draining than writing them, but grief doesn’t always make sense.

 

* * *

 

From there, she heads to the dry cleaners. She parks and takes a deep breath. There’s a better than average chance she’s going to burst into tears when she goes in there, she knows, and she shakes her head at herself.

 

She huffs a self-deprecating laugh as she thinks this is just another place to add to her list – the grocery store, the pharmacy, the diner, the doctor’s office.

 

“What’s one more stop on the King County Tear Tour?” she mutters to herself as she reaches for her purse and digs around for his wallet and the dry cleaning ticket.

 

* * *

 

She’d been there with him before, on what she’d teasingly called their ‘mundates’ – time they’d spent together on days off, running boring, mundane errands.

 

Her first visit, the owners had told her about how, years ago, then-Captain Ripley and his crew had saved their store.

 

They adored Lucas, even referred to him as ‘our chief’.

 

“I suppose he is _your_ chief now, no?” Miriam had asked.

 

Vic had smiled at her and taken Lucas’s hand. “Yes ma’am, I suppose he is.”

 

Vic had noticed them at the funeral, seated in the back, as she and Jennifer walked up the aisle.

 

* * *

 

The bell above the door jingles and Miriam looks up, catches Vic’s eye. She turns her attention back to her customer, completing the transaction and sending him back into the world with a warm smile.

 

She comes around the counter, stopping in front of Vic. “He really was your chief, wasn’t he?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” she says, eyes welling.

 

“You were lucky, then,” Miriam says.  “Before you were unlucky in the worst way, you were lucky. To work with your love. To see him do the thing he does best. To have a shared language, knowledge, trade. That’s lucky. I know.”

 

* * *

 

“You were also lucky,” Miriam says, grinning, “that he looked so handsome in his uniform.”

 

Vic huffs a laugh, nodding in agreement. “Yes, ma’am. He really did, didn’t he?”

 

“I may have tailored his shirts just a little, but shhh. We don’t tell.”

 

Vic leans in and whispers, “He knew.”

 

“He did not.”

 

“Mm,” she nods, “He liked it. Thought they looked better. And he thought it was cute you were sneaky about it.”

 

“That man,” Miriam says, shaking her head fondly. “How are you managing? Besides not eating enough.”

 

“Not eating enough. Not sleeping enough. It’s… hard. Really hard.”

 

* * *

 

“Of course it is hard. You just got him and he was taken away,” Miriam says.

 

Vic’s chin quivers and she looks down, swipes away a tear.

 

“You deserved better, the both of you.”

 

The bell jingles again, and Miriam reaches out to Vic. “You come with me. My John can manage the register.”

 

Vic follows her back behind the counter and into an office. Lucas’s clean uniforms are bagged and hanging on a hook behind the desk. Seeing them there punches the breath out of her. She sinks into a chair, slumps her head into her hands, and cries.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, child.” Miriam closes the door, pulls a chair over and sits beside her, rubbing circles on her back.

 

Vic takes a few minutes, then gets herself back in control. “I’m sorry,” she says, pulling tissues from her pocket and wiping her face.

 

“You don’t be sorry. We grieve because we love. I don’t judge you for tears. Pants that don’t fit properly? For that I judge you,” she teases, getting a half smile from Vic.

 

“You shouldn’t see me in my uniform, then.”

 

“So you bring them to me. I’ll alter them.”

 

“They’ll fit again soon enough, I think.”

 

* * *

 

Vic’s stomach growls then, as if on cue.

 

“You’re getting your appetite back. That is a good sign.”

 

Vic nods, takes a breath, and tells her about the baby.

 

“You are lucky once again. A new life brings joy and this baby will be no different. A joy to soothe your grief.”

 

Vic smiles weakly, mumbles, “No pressure, kid.”

 

“You are balancing the most joyful with the most tragic. That is a trying thing. You have good friends?”

 

“The best.”

 

“Good. You talk to them, let them help. With this… and this,” she says, touching her temple then her heart.

 

* * *

 

“And then later,” Miriam continues, “you let them help tie your shoes. It is impossible on your own.”

 

Vic laughs, bright and clear, and takes a moment to be grateful for this woman. “Yes, ma’am, I will. And thank you. For loving Lucas. For supporting his career. For caring about him and teasing him and making sure he looked good in his uniform.”

 

“Our handsome chief,” Miriam says, glancing over to his uniforms, a smile on her face. “You come back now and again and visit me? Let me see how those pants are fitting?”

 

“Of course,” Vic says.

 

“Good.”  


End file.
